> From Mana Mutants

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> Authorship Unatributed

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> One may question: Why, if these beasts of the planets penitent are awakening dormant bloodlines, are they called mutants?:

>

> This comes from the fact that mana beasts of several different species can share a mortal bloodline despite having an incompatible true bloodline. For instance, a pegasus and a unicorn of the equine lineage. Both of these creatures are, in their mortal state, horses. As there is no conflict in the mortal bloodlines it is conceivable that a stallion, carrying the bloodline of the pegasus, could mate with a mare, carrying the bloodline of a unicorn. Whereas in a mana or qi rich environment these two bloodlines would not be viable together and either no offspring would be produced or, in rare cases, the higher-tier unicorn bloodline would subsume the pegasus bloodline: in a non-energetic environment theses bloodlines are able to coexist in a single lifeform.

>

> When energy is reintroduced it is then entirely possible that both bloodlines awaken and give rise to entirely new varieties of creatures never before seen. This makes newly released planets penitent extrememly desirable locations for cultivators to explore as there may be entirely new ingredients for alchemy, beasts with powerful bloodlines,  mutant or otherwise, that are weak enough to capture to be raised as warbeasts or sold as novelties for a tremendous profit.

>

> This has lead to entire worlds being stripped bare and the existing inhabitants wiped out.

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There was a pop as the Warden appeared within the Historian's sanctuary, demonstrating again his incompetence with teleportation. The lines on his face were exaggerated by the blue light of the perception compass.

<> sent the Historian. In reality it was a wordless thought-form that indicated annoyance at the intrusion as well as his inability, due to the strictures of their sect, to prevent him doing so, and the distinct displeasure of the other immortal's presence.The Warden looked around taking in the dozens of clones present in the extension zones of the formation. <>

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<> The message contained an intent that pointed to an unoccupied node in the perception compass. <>

Kanshou's expression turned shocked, which pleased the Historian to no end. He knew that this would be a great merit upon their return, all the more remarkable for it's source. The Artificers were not known for their technique breakthroughs.

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<> The warden sent the mental equivalent of a shout. <>

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The Warden looked at him strangely, presumably deciding whether he was curious enough to inquire. Apparently deciding against it he returned his gaze to the dozens of clones lit by the blue light of the compass runes. Historian followed his gaze and felt a pang of regret. These days he usually thought of these copies of himself as his "servers". The things these mortals had come up with while isolated and without mana were truly impressive, in a way. Useless in the wider world of course, but impressive. It was a shame most of it would be lost when he returned to the upper realm, but there was no way the sect would expend that amount of resources for clones, or even true bodies. He would have to pick and choose what information and which memories he brought back, and those he could choose would be so few. Still, the strengthening of his soul brought by devouring theirs would allow his cultivation to progress much more quickly for a considerable period of time.

<> He sent toward Kanshou after concluding his thoughts, laced with a not so subtle hint of annoyance.

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<> The sending contained his disdain for such a foolish question and anger for insulting his senior sister. <> Feeling it odd for the Warden to come here for something so mundane, he tasked one of his servers with tracking any clones of Kanshou.  Normally he would not be able to sense the Warden's movements, but the man's cloning art was much less profound than Thousand as One and the clones should be within his ability to detect, if only barely.

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<> The Historian checked with the server, but nothing had been found so far. He shifted a couple more units to the task. This couldn't just be a display of dominance could it? The Warden may be a brute, but no one got to his level without at least being cunning.

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Historian sent a request to a server inquiring as to what the Warden was talking about.

<> His expression remained neutral but his sending contained the sense of a smile, knowing Kanshou would have nothing to say to that. And indeed the man simply scoffed in disatisfaction.

A server reported a slight anomaly that had faded almost immediately, Historian approved digging deeper into it.

<> The Warden pointed at the boy, young for even a mortal, unconcious and floating at the center of the room.

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The Historian sent a laugh. <> Kanshou did so and recoiled.

<> The message felt apalled.

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<> A server notified him of another anomaly, gone as quickly as the first. The Warden was definitely up to something.

<>  Kanshou suddenly changed topics.The Historian almost smiled; the other man was stalling. He assigned several more units to searching for signs of his movements. It would strain the other units to keep track of everything else, but the load would be acceptable for a short time.

<> A third anomaly. The servers were getting better at interpreting them, but were still only able to get a rough location and couldn't see what he was doing. With a few more though...

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The Historian did laugh at that. <>

<> The younger immortal was actually stymied by this.

<> A fourth anomaly.

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<> He didn't forget to needle the man as he left despite cursing that he had not been able to detect more of his movements. His reward for the sass was a formless wave of disgust.

Once he was finally alone again he immediately teleported to the vicinity of the first anomaly, then the rest. There was nothing out of place, nothing destroyed, requests to his servers indicated no missing people. What had Kanshou been plotting? His own faction was at a significant advantage in this experiment, given they had control of the formation that allowed them to monitor the world despite the lack of mana, which was already a pathetic source of energy even at normal levels, but if one were to underestimate the other side one would be making an irredeemable mistake. His master had high hopes for him, and this mission was a chance to prove himself, earn credit for both him and his faction, but if he were to fail...

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...interesting...

...must require physical contact... 

...breaks down quite quickly...

Ah! that's it. changing it as it's forming so the changes become permanent...

...she might be another one worth following,,,

...not nearly as interesting as those two, but...

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Perry woke, mouth dry and head aching worse than any time since Thailand. A quick stumble to the sink to gargle out whatever foulness was coating his toungue made a world of difference.

"The fuck..." He croaked. The second mouthful of water was swallowed. "Messed up dream. Or maybe i got abducted..." A chuckle faded off before a hand surreptiously reached back and tested a particular opening for soreness. "At least no probes." A double dose of ibuprofen was followed by a shuffle back to the bed. When the painkillers started kicking in a groping hand found a phone and clicked on the screen. "Fuck!" The time on the screen was 09:18: he should have been on duty over an hour ago. "I'm so fucking screwed." He knew he was going to get smoked, he just hoped he could avoid the Article 15.

After a moment of hesitation he pulled up his segeant's number and hit call.

"Perry! Where in the name of Hades' harem have you been?"

"I know I'm late-"

"Late? Three days gone puts you out of ranks soldier."

"Three days? No way, sergeant, I just woke up at home with a headache-"

"So you've been on a bender for three days?"

"No sergeant."

"Then where the fuck have you been? What have you been doing? What in the fuck was so important that you'd put your whole fucking squad at risk?"

"I... the last thing I remember I was on duty at the gate-"

"Forget it. You get down to base ASAP and give your statement."

"Yes, sergeant!"

Perry jumped up and rushed to the bathroom for a quick rinse off with simultaneous brushing of teeth before throwing on his digies and rushing to base.

A few narrowly avoided wrecks later he pulled up to the entry gate, waiting for the first arm to raise before showing his ID to the guard on duty.

"Just a moment." the guard said before returning to the guard house.

A few moments later a trio of MPs approached the vehicle from inside the base. One came to the window.

"Private, you're going to need to come with us." Perry's heart sank.

"Of course." He said.

"Leave the keys in the ignition and exit the vehicle."

"Sure." Perry stepped out slowly the keys in and the engine running. Two of the three assumed escort positions, and the third got into his car  and velet'd it away from the entryway.

Perry had the distinct feeling he was fucked.

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Isabella found an out of the way spot in the supercenter lot to wait.

Me:

Here

(951) 555-6148

A minute or two out. I know your car

When the car parked one space away from her Isabella supressed her nerves and got out of the vehicle. The man who climbed out of the other car smiled waved at her like they were old friends for the camera's benefit. They clapsed hands and started walking towards the store, her with a new bundle of cash and him with the key to a locker. It was much smoother than last time. They walked together for a moment in the store before parting ways. She bought a pack of burritos before leaving. She stopped at a pharmacy on her way home and spent the majority of the money she had just gotten to fill a prescription before rushing back.When she arrived, the door opened on several small, desolate faces.

"No." It was the only word she could muster. One of the little faces looked up, shining paths on its cheeks and nodded despondently. Isabella rushed to a particular room and burst inside, but hope lost to dread and the figure inside was far too still. She fell to her knees, her expression shocked and numb. This couldn't be... but, it was. She reached forward, not able to comprehend why her hands were shaking, and straightened the sheets and blankets, removed the towel from her forehead... her eyes were already closed. Time passed without measure as she gazed at the tiny, still face. After a time, she stood and left the room. As the door cracked open she was met again with small faces. The young woman paused for a moment, swallowed forcibly, before speaking.

"I'm sorry, guys. We will all miss Angie." Another gulp. "Now we have to remember to support each other. She's happy now, we're the sad ones, and it's okay to be sad. We just need to help each other. Remember the happy times Angie brought us all."

The children were tougher than most; the Tollings' orphans. Their tears tracked down their faces, but their eyes didn't show despair; only loss. Their sniffles were quiet. This was a dark path they had tread before.

After a moment: "She kept trying to be friends with that cat..." one of the boys, Liam, said. Someone else sobbed out a chuckle, Samantha... Sam.

"She always had scratches everywhere." She said.

"Remember when it chased her up a tree?" Said Matt. That got some kind of amusement from everyone. Isabella looked around at the eleve- ten small faces around her and wished she could be so adaptable as they. The children went one by one as moment's of joy were shared from their time with Angie.

"She brought all of us together." Liam spoke again.

"She did." Lisa said. "None of us would have been willing to trust Isabella, but she had no problem. She was always good at reading people." Isabella was a friend, caretaker, and provider for these children, but those two, the oldest, were their leaders. They had been so since they were all together on the street. A quiet moment. "Group hug?" Suggested Liam. Without any kind of verbal accord everyone came together, for a moment. Then they parted. There was still sadness, still a hole that could never be filled again, but the shared loss and remembered joy had put a warm blanket over their grief. For the moment at least, grief was ever a restless sleeper.

Isabella finally poked a hole in the moment.  "You guys should say your goodbyes." Confused faces greeted her words. "I'll have to call the authorities, police or somebody, and I don't know what will happen after. So, just in case, you guys should say anything you need to now." The faces were were still confused, but they nodded.

"C'mon guys" Liam said "let's go one at a time." Lisa started ushering the other children to towards the door where Angie rested.

Isabella made her way to her room, and there the tears finally, unrepentantly, burst out.

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Seeking to avoid maudlin thoughts of failure the Historian decided on a whim to  go and observe the yound mind mage. He reached into the formation and found her current location before teleporting into the room she was in, employing a stealth art so he would not be noticed.

He found her weeping. A request to his servers gave him the reason; the death of a child she had been caring for. Mortals were soft. It would be such a pain if he invested time in her and this softness got her killed before he could gain anything useful. Sighing internally he decided to interact with her directly for a moment before he invested in her further. He closed down the room and dropped the cloak. It took a moment for her to notice him through her tears.

"Jesus fuck!" She shouted before rushing for the door and slamming into the barrier he had erected, rebounding with her nose bloodied. She pounded at it a couple of times before realizing it was futile and turning back to Historian with her back pressed to the forcefield. Mortals invented such wonderful terms. "Who in the raging buttfuck are you?!" Her breathing was fast and her pupils contracted, her eyes darted around looking for other means of escape, but that was better than many might do in such a situation.

"Be calm. I currently mean you no harm." She rushed across the room to the window but once again struck a barrier. At least she had her hands out in front this time.

"Yeah, that 'currently' isn't putting me at ease dude." She wiped her nose and worked to control her breathing.

"Allow me to rephrase. Meet my requests and I shall do you no harm."

"I'm not fucking you, you sick son of a bitch. There's ele-ten people outside this door that could hear me scream."

"I assure you, you could scream until your throat bleeds and no one other than myself would hear you. Besides, such mortal concerns as sex have no appeal to me."

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

"Sure... so then what in the ninth hell do you want?"

"A conversation. I am a member of the organization that has brought about these 'changes' to your world, like the one you call the Herald. We have goals here that you may contribute to, but I am unsure: so, I came to evaluate your usefulness."

"So you're like a crazy person then?"

"The invisible wall behind you would seem to indicate otherwise." The girl paused and thought for a moment.

'Yeah... ok... so... what the fuck do you want to talk about?"

"Your mental art."

"My what now?" She brought out a pack of cigarrettes, but her hands were shaking too badly to get the lighter to catch. For the sake of expedience he flicked a finger and lit the cigarrette for her. She jumped and eyed him askance, seemingly more unnerved by that than the wall of force imprisoning her here, before bringing a still shaking hand to her mouth and taking a drag.

"The way you alter people's minds." Said the Historian with a sigh; external this time.

"I don't know, it's just a trick. Like I use it to get drinks at a bar or something."

"Ahh but it is so much more than that. Didn't you just recently use it to break into a facility secured by your country's military? Currently the largest and most advanced armed force on this little rock?"

"I mean... I didn't not do that.... But how the fuck-"

The Historian spoke over her. "Hence, my interest; a person like you in a qi-less, mana starved environment such as this should be incapable of altering peoples thoughts to such a degree without extensive training. So, how do you do it?"

"I see. And, if I don't tell you you'll...?"

"Kill you. Well, in the interest of full disclosure, I may kill you either way, but you will definitely die if you don't." He didn't really need to do that, he would just wipe her memory, but he found the threat served as excellent motivation.

"See?! I knew you felt fucked up."

The historian tilted his head slightly. "How do you mean?"

"You feel... hollow. Like there's nothing you really care about. You're just going around fucking about."

"I... see. I see.... So, some innate telepathy then? No... empathy. That is how you have such finesse."

"What in Christ's nuts are you talking about?"

"Never you mind. An empath is interesting. There is someone I would like you to take a look at."

"You said you just wanted a conversation man."

"Well, only a fool would completely reject new information, wouldn't you say?"

"Sure..."

 "So, in light of your newly discovered talent I may have a use for you after all. Congratulations! You may continue to live!" The only thing his cheer was missing was a few balloons and an oversized check.

"Aren't you supposed to be some all powerful dude that can kill half of the world?"

"First, I could destroy this entire world if I cared to. However, some talents are innate, my dear, and no amount of power will compensate for them. Besides, the levels on this world are so pitiful I can't do even one-hundredth of what I am capable of." He reached out and grabbed her shoulder. "Don't worry, no one will even notice your departure." Marvelling again at how ductile the space in this realm was he brought them to another place.

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Isabella jumped as she appeared in... well... this wasn't Riverside anymore.

Stone walls surrounded her; the precipices encrusted with foliage and some kind of spiralled... pathway?... circumnavigated the area. In front of her was a tent; simple but large, like something that you would see at a church fundraiser. As she worked to get her bearings the distinct sound of a circular saw cutting wood echoed through the area.

"Go inside and tell me of your impression of the person there." The creepy dickwad that had brought her here spoke out.

"Man, give a bitch a moment to breath and shit.... fuck."

"As you are able then." Said the creep who had brought her here with both amusement and impatience in his voice.

When she had resigned herself to follow through with whatever this was... fever dream maybe? Perhaps a hallucination driven by her grief? She hadn't taken anything... had she? Anyway, when she was in control enough she proceeded to skulk towards the tent.

"What are you doing?" The creep asked; far too loudly for a secret mission.

"Not getting noticed...?"

He sighed with the forced patience one had when dealing with a particularly ignorant child. "Unless you touch him he will not notice you."

"Your call dude." She said, hopefully reminding him that if things went sideways this whole kibab was his idea. Silence greeted her statement and not so politely refused it entry.

"Fuck." She walked forward hesitantly until she entered the tent. 

As soon as there was nothing between them she recoiled. Not because he noticed her, but because of the wrongness rolling off of him. She barely had a chance to glance at him before she was forced out of the tent gagging and retching.

"What did you discover?" the creep asked.

"Wrong... just fucking wrong..."

The creeper sighed. "I feared as much. What precisely did it feel like?"

"Like... twisted... like something was missing... or... hidden... and someone used the bits that were left to fill in the gaps."

"Very good."

The bile finally succeeded in its escape attempt.

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Historian glanced down at the girl once more. Her talent had been useful, but insufficiently so as to merit his continued attention. If this was an innate ability and not something that could be taught it was useless. He assigned her to a server to be monitored until such time as things changed.

Still, who had altered Mitch's mind? The Warden didn't have the required finesse for that kind of delicate work. Who else would have the power and knowledge to engender such an extreme modification of a mind though? Senior sister? He dismissed the thought out of hand. Perhaps that yellow robed plague had hidden an expert here. If not... even for Kanshou, with the low energy levels in this realm, a person capable of breeching the ward unnoticed would be troublesome to deal with. Such a person might even require the use of the emergency combat reserve. He really did not want to do that. The loss would be truly bothersome upon his return. He would just need to be on guard and hoard resources until such time as the enemy revealed themselves.

He erased the girl's memory, glad again that everyone on this world was mortal which made such things simple. For a moment he considered the girl's evaluation of him, and Kanshou's words. Could splitting his soul so far have really changed him? After a moment's thought he used another expression he had picked up in his time observing the mortals. "Nah."

He returned to his station.

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A couple of hours later a pair of officers and a coroner arrived. The coroner went immediately to examine Angie's body, and one of the officers asked to be brought into a private area. The other stayed with the kids.

"Ma'am, what happened here? You're not under suspicion at this time, we just need the whole story for the report. Be as clear as you can, and go as slowly as you need."

"Well, Angie was the first one... I brought in-" The officer interrupted. "I hate to be callous ma'am, but the police are stretched thin these days. I cannot afford to hear anything but the events surrounding the young lady's passing"

"Angie." Said Isabella. As far as she was concerned, if he wasn't going to hear her story, he was for damn sure going to learn her name.

"Angie." He must have seen it in her eyes because the officer conceded. "What happened to Angie?"

"She started getting sick a couple weeks ago. We took her to a doctor, but he said she needed a specialist. You know insurance is on lockdown right now, so I couldn't get her on a policy so I couldn't afford one. When she got really sick we took her to the ER, they gave us a prescription but they wouldn't let her stay after she stabilized." The officers pen scratched as he took notes. "Without insurance the drug was too expensive." She paused a moment to collect herself, her voice choked. "I had to go to my family to try and borrow enough to pay for it, but..."  That was true, it just hadn't been enough. A few tears escaped despite her best efforts to hold them back. The officer waited patiently. "But when I got back with the medicine she was already..."

"I see." The officer kept writing notes for a few moments more. Isabella couldn't contain herself.

"Did I do something wrong? I shouldn't have waited. I shouldn't have taken a chance-"

"Ma'am" said the officer "I am not a grief counselor, but I can tell you that legally care of these children who have been put on the street by the Tollings has been ruled to fall under 'Good Samaritan' protections. As long as your intention was to help the kids you will not be charged. Provided the other children confirm your story you will be fine, legally speaking."

"You're questioning them? But, they just lost their friend! And... they're just kids!"

"Please stay calm ma'am. It is necessary. A number of people such as yourself have taken one or more of these children in. However, we have seen a number of exploitation gangs popping up as well when people with... more material motivations take them in."

"Exploitation gangs?"

"That's what we're calling them. Adults will take the children into their home, but then force or otherwise manipulate the children into performing illegal activities if they wish to remain."

The officer saw the digust on her face and nodded. "I agree, and I don't believe you to be such a person, but we must make sure."

"If that's what's going on I don't blame you."

The officer asked a few more questions about what she knew about Angie's home and identity. "Now, this last issue may be difficult for you. We need to discuss what will happen to the young-ladi...  Angie's body. If you can't afford to take care of such things, the state can see to her funerary proceedings, but I'm afraid policy is for such remains to be treated as unclaimed. In this state that means she will be cremated and be part of a mass internment."

Isabella recoiled. "No. Absolutely not. We will bury her properly." The officer nodded, not without sympathy. There was a knock on the door before the other officer entered.

"Looks good. Said she even has them doing schooling with one of those online programs when they can get a connection."

"Exellent. Ma'am, I am very sorry for your loss. And can I say on a personal note, you're doing a wonderful thing here. We need more like you."

"Thank you." It wasn't enough, but it was what the officer could give. Besides, nothing would have been enough.

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Joel had camped in the woods away from the mine these last few days since Historian had selfishly "rescued" him from the man Mitch called Kanshou. Stunt him, were the words Historian had used to describe his interations thus far with Mitch.

Stunt. Slow. Hold back.  At first he had been angry. "You brought me to him!" had featured prominently in his thoughts, but as time had passed he had understood more of what the man had meant.

"Don't lean on Mitch". Dont rely on him. Before coming to the mine he had been fully focused on improving the form he had created; "Dance of Dragons". A name that he still did not dare to say aloud due to it's grandiosity. Since then, Mitch's ability to produce breakthrough after breakthrough in not just his own work but also Joel's had disheartened him. He had become more of a hanger-on to Mitch, not precisely waiting for Mitch's next big idea, but assuming it would come, and thus his motivation had dipped. He had kept practicing, but had stopped seriously looking for a way forward on his own. The Dance had faltered.

Today had been spent relentlessly practicing the form. Not just in the circle he typically used, but also in a continuous line, in more traditional "I" or "H" patterns, moving randomly in different directions, changing his breathing... et cetera, ad nauseum. Everything he could think of. Nothing, however, had sparked any new insight... any progress.

Finally the frustration, disapointment, self-recrimination... all the emotions he had been trying to reason through burst forth and he yelled as loud as he could at nothing in particular; perhaps God if such a being existed. Not knowing what else to do he began pouring his emotions into forms. Not his own, the forms he had been learning since childhood. Tae kwon do, judo, karate, kung fu... even some boxing exercises though they lacked the structure to be called forms in the truest sense.

Finally he started attacking the nearest tree. Not because the tree had offended him or because he thought he could damage it, but to use the physical pain to distract himself from... himself. Punches, kicks, hammerfists, knife hand strikes... until his hands were scratched, shins bruised, and knuckles bloody. Other than some bark broken off and some swaying back and forth his arboreal opponent was unharmed. It stood tall; judging him for his weakness.

"Stupid tree. How am I supposed to learn anything from you if you won't fight back?" Still the tree stood silently, it couldn't be bothered.

"Great. Just great. I'm reduced to personifying a damn tree."

The sun was getting low, so he dejctedly began heading back to his campsite. On the way back, as he always did, he imitated his favorite mightiest disciple and practiced the Dance on the way; doing his best to remain  calm and focused on the resonance. Some of the phenomena began to appear around him, dust and dirt followed him for short periods of time, breezes with no source blew past him, sparks sizzled in the air around him. Eventually though his frustration surged again.

"Fuck this! Fuck the Tollings! Fuck the mine!" He cursed with each movement until he ran out of things to curse and just began chanting cusses. "Fuck, fuck, Fuck, FUCK! FUCK YOU MITCH!" On the last he once again attacked a tree, smaller than the first.  When his fist connected... nothing happened. Well, his hand hurt... alot; the previous beatdown of that arrogant tree and another full force punch at this one taking their toll.

"GOD DAMNIT!" He turned once more and threw a wild haymaker at the tree; one that any of his instructors would have been appalled to see. 

POP! The tree cracked... and then exploded, sparks shooting wildly across its branches and leaves. The woods filled with the scent of a campfire as the fragments gradually drifted back down to the forest floor.

When the shock wore off a bit Joel gawped at his fist. Were the remains of the previously majestic tree not spread in a fan before him he would have believed himself to have been suffering a hallucination.

"Son of a Babylonian whore." He said, some of Mitch's inventive invective having worn off on him. He was stunned for several moments, simply standing baffled before the destruction until his mind began operating again.

"That's what did it? A useless haymaker?" He almost wanted to be mad, after all that effort, alll that thinking and worrying, some random action was what changed things. But, having anything new to try was too much of a lure.

Why was that punch different? He had clearly felt huge rush of what had felt like lightning mana enter him and rush through his fist at the tree. None of the other attacks he had trained had done that, but this one had?

Then a thought occured to him. He had found motions that resonated with the various elements of the energy called mana, according to the book he had gotten from Historian, but why those motions? Why precisely those motions? If those motions could do so, couldn't there be more? He had thought there was something specific in the motions of martial arts, something leftover from before mana had been cut off, but perhaps, as with his punch, normal motions could be modified to resonate with mana as well? Motions that were not a Dance?

The sun was almost completely down, but the moon was almost full right now and provided a proponderance of light, so in his excitement, he decided to keep working. But on what? It would have to be something simple and familiar, that was how he had stumbled across the movements in the Dance; noticing the changes in his regular forms, but what could he do now? He had never played other sports so there were no other movements ingrained into his muscles in that way...

His frustration began to rise again, he knew what he needed to do but not how to do it and that was almost as frustrating as not knowing the former. He tried a few more haymakers without even a hint of success. Stuck with his thoughts going in circles he ended concluding that he should just sleep on it so he started walking back to camp.

Walking...

"HAH!" What action was more familiar and ingrained than walking? He had a direction now. He would practice... walking. If he could find a resonance there this might really move him forward. He grinned at his thought pun. As he began walking again, this time paying close attention to how the channels that held mana felt and as he did so another name popped into his mind. The second level would be... The March of Dragons.

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Kanshou popped back into his meditation room, a gleam of dissatisfaction appearing in his eyes at the sound. Teleportation was not his forte, but it had been a long time since he hadn't had the strength to supress that sign of incompetence. Still, it seemed the trip to that odious little cave had been successful. There had been a risk it would point the scribbler towards his activity, but the benefits of keeping his true self from directly searching had outweighed them in his mind.

The completion of the seventh stage of Thousand as One worried him though. That technique was powerful, but incomplete due to its maker's early demise. If Historian had truly completed a viable seventh stage then he would need to have quite significant contributions during this remaining time to offset that merit. But the first step toward that end had been taken today.

And there was that abomination. If those two bloodlines ended up coexisting... but that was a thought for later. The other immortal was right in this case, it would not have enough time to grow to into a threat, and if the Historian didn't destroy it before they left he would do so himself. It could not be allowed to Ascend.

Overall though, he was pleased. The seeds had been sown....

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Mitch was ready ahead of schedule. The two diamonds had been installed in the new version of the weapon and the assemblies tested successfully. The blunderbeams had been remade in the same style, now looking more like a sawed-off shotgun than a weird baton, and the original geode crystals had been used to make a handful of sidearms. He had made a substantial supply of the mana cylinders for ammo and was still processing more, but that was a largely passive process which left him with about six days of free time left before the third Tolling hit and nature went nuts.

He spent some of that time in the formation. It couldn't hurt; even if Kanshou had told him he would survive. Besides, trusting anything that guy said completely seemed like a very poor decision. The rest of his time was spent in further experiments. He had made several special mana crystals by using only one or two of the sigils instead of all four. The one made of all fire was a deep orange, barely shy of red. Water was actually clear betraying the expectations Hollywood had built for him. Earth was... yellow... for some reason. Finally, air was a translucent blue-ish white.

Now, he was back at the testing range. Not wanting to risk the diamonds or geodes, just in case, the first test crystal was loaded into one of the old style blunderbeams which was itself attached to the testing rig.

"Alright earth, let's see what you've got." He gave the string a pull.

For the briefest of moments nothing happened, but then there was a crack that would make fireworks bow their heads in shame which caused him to jerk in surprise and yank on the string. The mine shivered for a moment before stilling.

When everything had been calm for a sufficiently convincing duration Mitch moved to stick his head around the peninsula of rock separating him from the proving grounds proper.

"Geb's goose..."

A ridge had risen in the path of the beam and a subtantial chunk of the rock wall had collapsed. There was no sign of melting or heat of any kind, unlike the weapons normal signature. It looked as though something had simply ripped the rock out of where it had been to where it was now found. The ridge was highest just in front of the sawhorses the weapon had been placed upon, descending steadily until it was covered by a pile of rubble from the collapsed wall. The weapon itself was unharmed, but laying on the ground next to the sawhorses: it would seem that when he jerked on the string in his surprise he pulled it off of its mount which allowed the string to go slack. Probably a good thing, considering.

Mitch walked up to the ridge and touched it. It was genuine rock, or at least it felt that way, rather than something ephemeral manifested by the beam of earth energy. He threw a smaller rock at it, and it clacked just as one would expect. It looked like rock, sounded like rock, felt like rock, and after a test it smelled and tasted like rock.

"But where did it come from..."

He puttered around a bit more, but was unable to discern any new information.

"On to the next I suppose..."

----------------------------------------

Water had made a small groove in the cliff face and desicated the few plants nearby, and wind appeared to have just made a strong... wind... blow. The final one to be tested was fire.

Just as he was about to pull the string, Mitch heard a hum. It sounded like a transformer; the kind one would find on a pole among powerlines. However, there were no power lines or a grid of any kind in or even near the mine. There wasn't even cell service out here. Confused mitch stood up to look around, but only saw Joel approaching.

"Welcome back." He didn't ask, nor feel the need to ask, where the younger man had been. All he got in reply was a raised hand as Joel continued to walk forward, his face for some reason pinched in concentration and his stride a bit stilted. After looking around a second time for the source of the hum he turned back to his station and readied again for the test.

"Got something stuck up there?"

"Unn."

"Whatever. Stay back a bit; running a test."

"Unn."

He pulled the string.

The sky darkened and everything became cast in a twilight shadow despite it being shortly past noon. Even Joel stopped his gottapoop walk.

After a couple seconds Mitch let go of the string and the sky returned to normal. He stuck his head around the edge of the rock pier and was captivated by the glowing stripe of molten rock laying between the testing rig and the side of the mine. After a couple of moments Joel stuck his head out from behind Mitch and whistled.

"Wheeeeew... What was that?"

"Pure fire mana..."

"Impressive. Look at the lava coming out of that indent..."

"Yeah..."

"Let me try."

"Huh?" A this point Mitch noticed that the humming he had heard earlier was coming from Joel. The other man walked out around the promontory, took one stiff gottapoop step, and raised his hand with a five-fingered point, like a politician who was definitely not pointing because that's rude.

Once his hand reached shouler level the world exploded.

Not literally, of course. But, there was a blindingly brilliant flash of light, gone as quickly as it came, followed by a hammer of thunder that fell just short of breaking Mitch's eardrums. He clapped his hands to his ears in self defense and ducked back behind the welcome shield of stone.

The surprise of it all kept Mitch in that fetal position, hands over his ears, for longer than was strictly necessary. He jumped excessively from a touch on his shoulder.

"You okay man?"

"Good, totally good... what was that?"

"Figured something out."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Started wondering why it was just the motions in the form that had a resonance, so..."

"Damn."

"Yeah."

"Lightning?"

"Yup."

"Damn."

"Yeah. Check it out."

The two of them stepped around the peninsula to look at what Joel had wrought. The glowing stripe from the fire mana remained, but above the new indent in the collapsed rubble from the earth mana there was a newer bit of glassy stone. Additionally there were several glass-looking sections in and around the superheated stripe.

"Fulgurite." Said Mitch.

"What?"

"Those glassy bits. Like when lightning hits sand."

"Ah. Like Sweet Home Alabama."

"Huh? There's no lightning in that song."

"No, the movie."

"They made a movie?"

"Kind of. Reese Witherspoon. Chick-flick"

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Trust Hollywood to make a legend into a cash-grab."

"Sure."

"...You liked it."

"...I didn't say that."

"Right."

"What do you think?"

"...It'll fry some peeps."

"...Yeah, accidentally blew up a tree."

"Real?"

"Yup."

"Damn."

"That fire shit's badass to."

"That's a weapon though, you just pointed and boom..."

"Well, took a bit to build the charge to that level."

"How though?"

"Found the next level of my form."

"Next level?"

"Yeah. Figured if those specific movements from the form could create a resonance with mana, why not others?"

"Yeah? So what'd you do?"

"Walked."

"Walked."

"Yeah. Its familiar, like the form motions are for me. Thought it might be easier to see if there were any changes; resonance, you know?"

"And then this?"

"Yeah, hadn't tested it yet."

"Damn."

"Damn."

They stood nearly, but not quite, shoulder to shoulder and purveyed their respective destruction; lava and glass glowing from their residual heat.

"We some BAMFs." Said Mitch.

"We is."

Joel held up a fist. After a moment Mitch pounded it. Joel blew it up. Mitch didn't know what that was.

"Don't worry about it." said Joel.

----------------------------------------

The next few days were spent in a similar manner. Joel tried to teach Mitch how to walk with lightning with no success: Mitch continued with his experiments; none of them having particularly interesting results: right up until the morning before Tollingday.

Mitch was asleep in his truck-bed when his phone dinged. He irritably rolled over and went back to sleep.

When his alarm went off he blearily reached for the device. "If God existed, mornings wouldn't." It was his morning refrain, but a message box icon in his notification bar caught his eye before he could continue to curse the universe into nonexistense.

> (220) 555-3369

>

> Check the fire

>  

>

> Me:

>

> What? Who is this?

>

>  

>

> . . .

>

> (220) 555-3369:

>

> This is Joel. Check the fire.

>

>  

"Useless... cant even knock and just say..."

Mitch dragged himself from his justtheperfectemperature sleeping bag and out into the dim light of false dawn. When he made his way to the fire he found a handwritten note.

> Mitch,

>

> I took all your weapons and ammo. I'm headed to L.A. Text me when you get here and I'll tell you where to find me.

>

> Also, I posted the info about accupuncture months ago.

>

> Joel

"I'm going to dick punch that idiot until he needs a catheter to breathe."